Amy Angel
by ThatAloneOne
Summary: When Amy received the summons, she knew it was going to be a good day. (Epilogue to Ben's Clues.)


When Amy received the summons, she knew it was going to be a good day.

"I summon thee, Amriel-"

"Oh!" Amy said, from atop their state-of-the-art SUV. It was parked just inside the door — otherwise known as the fallen wall — of a ramshackle barn. They were also in the middle of nowhere. And further, Amy had no idea how she got there. But she wasn't going to introduce herself on the floor like a normal person, no way. "Hello!"

They both screamed, a cacophony of panicked shrieks from people that were _clearly_ not used to being surprised. There was a woman, a man, and a fancy little bowl filled with herbs and little bits of bone, and yeah, blood. The woman was shorter — but angrier looking — stood over it, her palm still dripping. Both random executives were in a perfectly tailored suit, far too spick and span for the empty barn in the middle of absolute nowhere.

Suspicious.

 _Awesome._

It had taken weeks to figure out how to teleport without the tagalong angel, but Amy was happy to say (and happy to scare the living daylights out of any unfortunate soul that crossed her path) that she could do it. Easily. Instantaneously.

She did, twisting back into reality with her head high, arms still akimbo. They both stared, but they were too busy trying to recuperate from the first scream to scream again. What a bother.

"Hello!" Amy said again, grinning wider. "I'm Amriel!" A wink. "But you can call me Amy."

The man bowed, a drop of sweat taking a dive from his impressively pointed nose. If it had been any sharper, it would have been considered a lethal weapon. "Oh, great Amriel-"

"Amy." the woman corrected, and did a curtsy as low as her starched slacks would allow. "Pleased to meet you." Her hair was glued in ringlets, glistening with hair gel and probably about three shades darker than it would have been naked. She didn't look pleased in the slightest. "Oh great Amy of the Angels-"

"Oooh," Amy said, sort of to herself but not really. "That's new. I like that. Do go on."

The man opened his mouth, but the woman stepped close to him, as if to shush him, and her heel landed on his toe. It was on purpose, Amy could just tell. The woman's moth twisted, like the words were made of lemons. She looked like she'd rather be anywhere but there. "Amy of the Angels, we have a request for you, if your greatness could allow it."

Man, did these people regularly summon angels? Or were they getting their tips from The Book Of How To Schmooze Idiots, because Amy was pretty sure that if the summoned angel had been anyone but her, the two extravagantly dressed representatives would have smoking eye sockets.

How _had_ they managed to summon her, anyway? She wasn't an angel. Well. Sort of. A mortal angel, in a way. That's what Gabriel had said, when he'd deigned to show up, months after he left her lying on Lisa Braeden's ICU floor like a sack of potatoes. Turns out that when he'd been a half-invited lodger in her body, he hadn't been able to provide all the power for Amy's adventures by himself. He'd been forced to make, ah, alternate arrangements for the power. Such as linking it directly to the nearest source of energy — Amy's soul. Which was all fine and dandy as long as she didn't mind that using her powers often felt like trying to gut herself.

Oh well. It was worth it for the _look_ on Benny boy's face when she'd been able to launch herself from the ceiling of his room like a deranged bat and nearly take off his head. She was all for the small pleasures in life.

"I could," she told them, graciously, and conjured her knife. It wasn't an archangel blade, sadly, but it could still kill lots of things. Like the plans of TruTell Corp. "But why would I do such a horrendous thing?"

Their mouths dropped in sync, making a lovely little _pop_. They exchanged looks, as if she wasn't there and by their expressions? Psychic. They totally thought she was psychic. This was fantastic.

"Well…" and the man actually turned to his colleague and / _whispered_ , like being angelic made Amy not only blind, but also deaf and stupid. " _Why did we choose this one?_ "

The woman shot him a death glare, but muttered back, trying almost comically hard not to move her lips. She looked like a first grader attempting ventriloquism. " _Its name starts with an A. Sorry._ "

Amy almost laughed. Oh, the coincidences of the hunting world. To get summoned here, the _real_ Amriel had to be dead, and TruTell Corp needed to be desperate enough to summon an _angel_ for their nefarious deeds. Now all they needed was a human-summoning spell and a phonebook flipped to 'B' and Ben would be here and the conspiracy complete.

Amy almost missed Ben. Almost. It'd been nearly a year since Gabriel had moved on for emptier pastures and Ben had gone back to living under his mother's thumb. They still hadn't managed to fix Lisa's memory — all of Amy's magical memory skillz had left with the archangel — but they were working on it. In the meantime, they'd convinced the Braedens to move to an old property of the Winchesters, where Ben was starting up his own salvage business. He still grumbled about not completing his mechanic's degree, but he knew all he needed and one didn't exactly require a certificate to get Singer Salvage back in working order. The cars were there. The tools were there. Even the ambiance of grumpy men was there. It was perfect.

Amy popped by occasionally to scare the wits out of Ben, make fun of Ben, and complain about Tate, but it wasn't the same. It was going to be great once they managed to get Lisa to remember, chill, or both. Then they'd be off on the road, the second most famous hunter duo. And if Amy had it her way? They'd be vying for first within a week. But in the meantime, it was bullying Tate into getting therapy and hunting the odd vampire or demon that was stupid enough to wander near the Grace's new house. In Westboro. That they'd painted rainbow. Because reasons. And, apparently, getting summoned by the idiots at TruTell Corp because they didn't have the nerve to do their dirty deeds themselves.

The man was still whispering excuses. He looked nearly frantic, the woman irritated and bored. "… _and it's May, and-_ "

Amy drew on her power, ignored the searing pain, and appeared about half an inch from the woman's face, grinning. "And I'm the angel of May! Thank you _so_ _much_ for noticing!" This twinge was harder to ignore, the ghosts of her parents whispering _My little angel of mayhem_ , but it had been almost two years now. Amy was stronger than that, even if she missed them every single day. "I do like May. Lots of flowers, singing birds, hay fever for the silly little humans-"

The woman screamed and stumbled back, and Amy popped in and out of reality, landing in front of the man. His reaction was even more dramatic, his eyes rolling back in his head and then he fainted mid-scream. This was _fun_. "Thanks for summoning me! It had been so long," like, ever, because this was the first time but _details_ , "and I was beginning to feel unloved!"

The woman stared, her eyes wild, hands to her head like she was afraid Amy was going to attack her steel-clad updo. "I- I'm sorry!" Then her eyes hardened, sparked, like she'd caught some sort of idea with the hay fever. She started edging sideways, towards the bowl. Amy watched with amusement, staying near the unconscious man and kicking dust onto his perfectly coiffed suit.

The little things. Oh, how she loved the little things. He shouldn't have worn Armani to a barn in the middle of nowhere to summon an _angel_. Honestly. Did people not have _any_ common sense these days.

"I BANISH THEE!" the woman shrieked, shaking her palm over the bowl. More blood fell, but whatever freak of coincidence had called Amy here in the first place didn't cover surprise exits.

Amy didn't move. The woman laughed, a cackle of desperation. "YOU ARE BANISHED!" Amy raised an eyebrow. "I DOTH BANISH THEE!"

"Are you going to keep going?" Amy asked, scattering one last clod of dirt into the man's breast pocket. "I mean, I can do this all day." Well, not quite all day. Tate had a meeting with Doctor Yates at six, and unless Amy dragged him out the door, there was no way he was going to go. "Almost all day," she conceded. Winked again.

"I BANISH THEE IN THE NAME OF THE LORD!" the woman shrieked, and chucked the bowl at Amy. She dodged. They stared at each other.

"Really?" Amy said, finally. " _Really_?"

"I banish thee in the name of Satan?" the woman offered. Scratched her perfect hair. "Ugh."

Amy could sympathize. Supernatural creatures _never_ did what you wanted them to. Oh god. She was part of the problem now, wasn't she? This was a terrible development. "None of that will work, you know." Amy flipped her knife around her hand, the not-silver edge skidding across her forearm before disappearing into… well, she didn't know, but she was sure it went somewhere. "I'm way too awesome for that."

Or not angelic enough for that, but you know, details again.

The woman closed her eyes, scrunched them tight, and then _actually clicked her heels together_. And opened her eyes, scowled at the still-totally-there Amy. "Awesome? I call it annoying."

Amy couldn't help but snort. "Don't close your eyes, crazy lady. I'm not the wicked witch, and your heels aren't exactly ruby red." Then, on a whim, Amy stepped closer and offered her hand. "I'm Amy. Angel. Ish." A pause. "It's complicated. And you?"

The woman sighed, shook her hand. Her grip was crushing, painful. "Helena Tatraken, CEO of TruTell Corporation."

Amy wiggled her eyebrows. "I knew you were cunning, but I never knew you were the _queen_." Then the rest of it hit. This time, Amy was the one to stare. "You're kidding." She had _known_ that she'd stolen her fake reporter name from somewhere, but this was hilarious. "Tatraken?"

Helena squinted, released Amy's hand like it had become a slug. "It's a perfectly-"

Amy waved her off. "I know! It's great! I'd just heard it somewhere and couldn't remember where." She made a mental note to get new fake business cards. That name was just weird now. "So, what exactly did you want me to do?"

Helena sent the man a disparaging glance. "This is Naythan, my personal assistant. He got into my emails and collected some… unsavoury materials." A delicate shudder. "This was _his_ idea, by the way. _I_ like to solve my problems myself."

…Okay then. Corporate blackmail lead to summoning angels now. That was far more interesting than the usual tabloid headlines. "So, any idea where he's keeping all this data? Because I totally have a friend that's a tech wizard. She could deal with this, no problem."

If she wasn't in Oz again, that was. Amy wasn't sure if being in Oz counted as the vacation, or Earth did, but either way Charlie was having way too much fun.

Helena did a double take. "You have… friends?"

Amy rolled her eyes, tapped her pocket. "Well, _yeah_. You interested?"

Helena considered that. Then peered at Amy for a good thirty seconds, as if that would tell her if Amy was lying. "Fine." She reeled off an I.P. number, and Amy whipped out her phone, opening a text to Charlie. "But be careful," Helena warned. Shot Naythan another disgusted look. "He's been a programmer ever since he was five. The firewall's not gonna be easy. Believe me, I've tried."

Amy sent the text, along with a smiley face and a _Have I got a story to tell you lol_. "Not gonna be a problem."

They stared at each other again, but this time, there wasn't any antagonism. Helena's hair _was_ pretty great, come to think of it.

"Right," Helena said, and picked up Naythan's foot. "I'll be going. And, apologies, but I really hope I don't have to see you again."

Amy didn't blame her. She was too awesome for most people to handle.

Helena loaded Naythan in the backseat, if by 'loaded' you mean 'shoved and then didn't buckle', and started up the SUV. Amy jogged after the car, stepping out into the mid-morning sunlight. The air was crisp, but not biting, and the road was long and empty up ahead. How wonderful.

Amy tried to teleport, but the little reservoir of power inside her gave a wheeze, and sputtered, pain radiating out from her chest. She tried again. No cigar. Helena puttered past, nodding to Amy as she went.

Amy tried one last time to teleport home. It didn't work. Too far. _Ugh_.

So, Amy got out her phone and dialled her taxi service. It picked up almost immediately. "Hello?"

"Hey, Ben!" Amy could _feel_ the grin in her voice. "Funny thing — I seem to be stuck in," she lowered the phone, checked the GPS. "Hey, I'm stuck right outside Lick Skillet, Tenesee. That's actually not that bad."

He sighed, heavily, and Amy didn't hold back her cackle, waving as the SUV turned onto the main road, the back of Naythan's head just visible in the backseat. "What did you do this time?"

"Hey!" she protested. "I'll have you know that _this_ time, it wasn't my fault. At all."

Ben laughed, and there was a voice in the background, Lisa, Amy thought, asking him what was so funny. "Oh, I'm sure. _This_ time. Not like last time, when- Yes, Mom, it's Amy, gimme a second."

"One," Amy said, just to be difficult. "Oh, look, you're lying to your mother. How rude."

"Shush, Mimi." After the Amazing Amriel had lost it's power, Ben had been spending an unspecified (but large) amount of time online, looking up terrible nicknames. Anything that shared a letter with 'Amriel' or 'Grace' was fair game. "Lick Skillet? That seems like a bit of a coincidence."

Amy snorted, tipped her head back to stare at the perfect, cloudless sky. It really was a beautiful day. "Everything's a coincidence, Bib. Now, about that ride?"

* * *

 **The End.**


End file.
